Mother's Heirloom
by Dominique
Summary: SSOC. When her mother dies in a freak accident, Jade returns home to make arrangements.. and discovers that her mother was never the intended victim.
1. Mother's Heirloom : Chapter 1

**Mother's Heirloom**

Chapter One

Jade Devlin figured her life was just about everything but perfect.

For one, she had been raised by her mother alone. Not that she considered having one parent a bad thing, but she couldn't deny ever missing the presence of a father. For as long as she could remember Rebecca had refused to speak much of him other than to tell Jade that he'd been a good man whom she had fallen hopelessly in love with at a very young and tender age. Her mother had liked to use to word tender. No matter how much Jade would wheedle; she had never got the full details of why they had separated or where her father was now and why her mum felt so strongly that she had committed a mistake so grave that she should spend the rest of her life correcting it in Magdalene sisterhood asylum fashion.

Despite their strong feelings of affection for one another, Jade had never felt the kind of bond with her mother that she shared with Betty, her mother's best friend. Betty, though also a devoted catholic, didn't exercise her belief as strictly as her mum did. Their friendship was such an exceptionally strong one it rivalled the bond sisters shared and it caused Jade to realise that they were lucky to know each other. But as all sisters, they fought with as much vigour as they loved each other.

One afternoon at Betty's, Jade (who had been four years at the time) was playing in the backyard with five-year-old Kalvin, the boy across the street, when suddenly her mother had barged in. Rebecca had just returned from work, still wearing her library work clothes. More often than not she would have some cake and tea, fill Betty in on the gossip in town and then take Jade home. But not this time. Jade remembered a heated argument that had ensued between Betty and her mum, with a lot of furious whispering, and then she'd been whisked off home at once as if nothing had happened. But not before she caught Betty playfully sticking out her tongue at Rebecca's back and then winking conspiratorially at Jade as she was carried away. That night after bathing, her mother had sat her down and, wearing a grave expression, had explained to her the difference between boys and girls. Boys were different from girls because they had been punished by God for being bad and good little girls, like Jade, should therefore stay away from them. When she had asked what Kalvin had done to be a bad boy, Rebecca had told her to go to sleep.

Jade had never been allowed to play with Kalvin again, except when her mum was away on another one of her conferences for the protection of whales or some other endangered species and she was sleeping over at Betty's who didn't seem to share the opinion that boys were evil. Betty had made her swear not to tell.

By the time she'd reached fifteen, Jade had broken almost every one of her mother's rules regarding boys and was proving to be such a rebelling teenager that Rebecca had no choice left but to succumb to what her daughter had become. Though baptised, Jade had never felt any inclination to join any religion, most in particular Catholicism, and her mother's last hope (no premarital sex) she dashed at seventeen. It created the necessary friction in the Devlin household, and although the relationship between mother and daughter had never been the same again, there was always Betty to lighten the mood by relating to them the goings-on in her younger years and then pointing out that she had ended up quite fine. Even Rebecca hadn't been able to find fault in that since Betty had only married once, and stayed married, attended the church every Sunday and every holiday, including most importantly Easter, and still prayed before bedtime every night.

When Jade had reached nineteen and had decided she was going to study drama in the States Rebecca had finally reached the end of her rope. She said there was no way Jade was going to go and they exchanged some serious blows and some very ugly and angry words that Jade regretted to the present day but had never felt able to take back completely. It had taken her all her savings to get to New York and complete the year after which she returned home and declared drama wasn't her passion after all and she was going to take law at Cambridge where she received room and board and didn't see her mother except on the Christmas holidays that they celebrated at Betty's.

Three years into the course, Jade ran out of money and discipline and decided to take one year off to work at a seedy bar in downtown Leeds. She was gathering courage to go back home and try to salvage the relationship with her mother.

That had been two years ago.

Rebecca had died. Jade had attended the funeral that Betty had arranged at her mother's request four days later. When she thought of her mother, it was with love, regret and a sorrow at what might have been.

So she tried not to think of it.

The rain began pouring just as Jade exited her car. With a feeling of frustration, she slammed the car door shut, holding the newspaper over her head to provide whatever meagre shelter she could, and darted across the sidewalk, toward the door whose yellow paint was peeling away in frightening quantities. The rain was coming down harder now, the icy drops spattering fast and ruthless against the ground and rattling the cottage's old windowpanes that needed desperate replacement. It might have been late august, but central England was experiencing a drizzly cold wave that disappointed her.

She struggled for a moment with the keys and the lock, which was becoming much too rusty for comfort, then hurried inside, letting out a sigh of relief as the door closed behind her. With a flip of the switch light flooded the hallway. The familiar scent of varnish and sawdust that forever hung in the air brought back memories from her childhood; her mother painting the shed an odd turquoise colour, working on another of her wooden structures – Jade had never been able to fully understand her mother's hobby.

She picked up the pile of mail that filled a considerable part of the narrow hallway, moving straight through the living area that was furnished sparsely, and dumped her purse on the kitchen counter, then pulled a large bottle of lukewarm spring water from the bottom cabinet. She glanced at the answering machine, realised that it was still unplugged since she'd left several weeks ago.

She scooped back her hair, thought vaguely about a haircut and began to work her way through the usual complement of bills and junk mail while she unwrapped the red, Indian shawl she'd brought back from a short trip to Alanya from her neck, stripped off her coat and the orange hoodie that was soaked through in patches and turned on the portable heater on full blast. There were electricity bills, adverts, her mother's monthly issue of Resurgence – she would have to remember to cancel the subscription – and a postcard from a friend vacationing in Majorca.

Then she picked up a manila envelope with her name and address carefully handwritten on it.

Ms. J. Devlin

35 Hollesty Road

Holmfirth

Yorkshire

The envelope was thick and heavy, made of yellowish parchment, and the address was written in emerald-green. There was no stamp. She turned the envelope over to find a purple wax seal bearing a coat of arms. A lion, an eagle, a badger and a snake surrounded a large letter H. She ripped open the envelope and pulled out the letter. When she had skimmed the first lines, her heart gave a quick jerk that was both offence and fascination.

Dear Ms. Devlin,

I am Albus Dumbledore. I do not expect you will recognise my name. We are, in a way, connected as your mother was a dear friend of mine. You may or may not be aware that she and I were acquaintances and that we have kept corresponding over the years. I wish you my deepest condolences for your recent loss. To live in the hearts of others is never to die; my sincere sympathy to you and your family.

However, and I now come to the reason for this letter, regarding recent events, I've come to believe that it is imperative we meet. There is information concerning your mother that is vital we discuss. If I could propose a meeting on September 7, 16:30 hours, in the Meander's Tearoom, Forescrew Hall, London, it would be an honour to receive you. Should the time be inconvenient, please contact Ms. M. Kissley at 019 0474 2705 to reschedule.

Yours sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore

Jade stopped dead. A mixture of fear and resentment flooded her. She looked back at the letter in her hands as if it would offer an explanation or burst into laughter and tell her it was a joke, but of course it did not. Feeling her knees beginning to weaken, she sank down onto a chair, and mulled over the information.

It couldn't be a joke, she reasoned, whoever found such a thing funny wasn't an acquaintance of hers and, considering Jade had moved out over six years ago and didn't know anyone except the close neighbours and the old high school friends that still lived in town, there wasn't much of a chance anyone else who knew of her mother's death would know she was here.

Who was this person and what could he possible have to say to her? Out of habit, she reached for the phone to call Betty and had almost finished dialling the number when she realised the phone wasn't plugged in and it was the middle of the night.

She pushed away from the counter, turned on the coffee machine, grabbed a freesia pink mug in the form of an elephant and filled it with two spoons of sugar as the machine started to splutter. Then she picked the letter up and moved to throw it in the bin, dismissing it from her mind, when her hand froze mid-air. She peered closely at the green scribbling that had caught her eye. Dumbledore's bold signature stared back at her. A bell rang vaguely in the back of her mind.

Then she remembered.

She dashed across the room, almost tripping over the duffle bag that she had unceremoniously dumped in the middle of the room, yanked open the drawer of a lime green dresser in groovy sixties style that Rebecca had made her for her sixteenth birthday, and began to rummage through its contents. She nearly upturned the whole drawer in frustration as she dug through the paper clips, old pens and markers, post-its, address books, tissues, spare coins, until she found the envelope. She stared at the small, plain square of paper in her hands. When the machine buzzed announcing that her coffee was ready, she ignored it. When a car drove by, its tire splashing in a puddle and its headlights shining brightly into the kitchen, she barely noticed. With steady hands, she unfolded the creased letter her mother had left in her will to scan its contents.

'…Albus Dumbledore, a very dear friend of mine whom you can trust. I am terribly sorry you have never had the opportunity to meet him for he is truly a splendid and brilliant man. Should he come to contact you after my death, I know with absolute certainty that it must be important. Listen to what he has to say, and take his words into caution. Now, about Harold's gardenia's…'

Jade was rooted to the spot. She was rattled. The few lines had been inserted inconspicuously in a paragraph devoted to her mum's most personal thoughts about friends and family that she'd always wanted to say out loud but couldn't because they were family and you couldn't say bad things about them, even if it was the truth. Gossiping had been the second hobby she and Jade hadn't shared, which explained why she hadn't picked up on it before.

So he was a dear friend. Jade's brows creased. Or something more? She couldn't remember ever hearing her mother call any man brilliant, except for the pope, and even that one time she had been very reserved with her opinion.

But why hadn't her mother ever mentioned him to her?

With growing frustration, she realised that the only way she was going to get any answers was to go to that meeting. Though it wasn't something she was looking forward to, she felt that it was her only option.

Jade liked very much to be in control, and right now she felt anything but.

-

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	2. Mother's Heirloom : Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

Forescrew Hall was filled with the clatter of shoes on marble and the chattering voices of people milling round. Business suits, shoppers, people on lunch break, people running errands or just enjoying a day out with the family. Conversations varied from the latest fashion, gossip on celebrities, politics, and the recent tragedy of the Brockdale Bridge and Bones murder. At four-twenty on a Saturday afternoon it was absolutely packed. But Jade didn't notice any of this due to the pounding in her ears. She glanced a final time at the letter, then folded it and tucked it back in her bag. She strode down the Hall; back straight, head up and hoped she looked as confident as she felt nervous. At the end of the hall, she turned left and was told by an oddly dressed receptionist that she was expected in the third room on the left, just across from the reception desk. The middle-aged woman was wearing jeans and a red jacket with a formal dress over it and was stealing curious looks at her when she thought Jade wasn't looking.

Jade knocked briskly on the door and a pleasant voice from inside rang out, "Come in."

She stepped inside, closed the door behind her.

What she saw was not something she had expected. The man standing behind the desk was tall, thin and appeared to be in his very late sixties; a friendly grandfather type with silver hair pulled back into a ponytail that reached well below his lower back. An immensely long beard hung down the front. Hidden behind half-moon glasses resting on a long crooked nose was a pair of bright and sparkling eyes that spoke of a sharp intellect not deterred by age.

"Good afternoon, Ms. Devlin," he said graciously, clasping her hand in his warm grip as if they had known each other for years.

"Welcome. Such a thrilling storm, but distressing, I am sure, to be out in it. Come in, please. Have a seat."

Jade glanced at the window, where the rain she had run through just minutes ago beat threateningly against the glass.

"Rotten weather," she agreed.

His low chuckle had her turning back to him, and at his gesture, she took off her coat and sat down on the creaky old chair in front of his desk. He looked, she thought as she watched him move behind his desk, much like one of those eccentrics that were stuck in one era, and added small attributes to their appearance as time went on, ending up looking completely mismatched, unprofessional and often scruffy. Her annoyance peaked at the thought that this man was the sole reason that she had just spent four hellish hours locked up in her tiny car in the middle of a thunderstorm, half the time wondering if the next gust of wind would be strong enough to blow her car straight off the road.

"I daresay you must be curious as to the reasons behind my letter," he began. His voice sounded old. "I believed this conversation best reserved for a more personal setting."

He leaned back in his chair, searched his pockets and took out a brown paper back. "Would you care for a sherbet lemon?"

"No, thanks," she declined, impatiently brushing a few wet, outgrown bangs behind her ear.

"I'm rather fond of these sweets. They're not too sugary and none of that hidden centre business," he told her pleasantly while unwrapping a sweet. "I hope your journey wasn't too long and arduous."

"It was fine."

"I would have arranged for our meeting to take place in Leeds, nearer to your home, but unfortunately I had business detaining me here and I felt it best not to postpone our appointment. Can I offer you some refreshment?"

"I'm good." Then, "Look, Mr… er…"

"Albus Dumbledore."

"Mr. Dumbledore –"

"Call me Albus, please."

Jade's hazel eyes narrowed; she could not suppress a suspicion that the man was rather enjoying himself.

"_Mr. Dumbledore_," she stressed, "if we could just get to the point?"

"Naturally," Dumbledore acquiesced with a small nod and clasped his hands together.

"Let us skip the polite chitchat then. I've always rather admired people who are able to stay focused in the more confusing of times." He looked at her thoughtfully.

"When your mother passed away three months ago, I was notified the following day. She had, ah… requested me to explain to you the things she herself felt she could not."

He tapped his fingers on the desk, looked at her over his half-moon glasses.

"Am I correct to say that you've never met your father?"

"Yes." A frown drew her brows together in obvious annoyance; frustration was snapping her patience short. "Why? Are you going to tell me you know him?"

Dumbledore didn't even so much as blink at her testy tone. In fact, it seemed as if he hadn't heard it.

"I knew of him, yes. He died many years ago. What your mother no doubt left out is that your biological father had a family of his own."

"What?" Shock had Jade moving toward the edge of her seat, her fingers gripping the armrests fiercely. "She knew where my father was? She knew he had a family?" Her mother knew all this time yet she'd never told her?

Her head was spinning. She actually felt her heart skip a beat as another thought occurred to her. "You mean to say that she had an affair with him?"

"I believe that term would be most appropriate," Dumbledore agreed. "He also had two daughters."

"My mum, an affair. Two daughters…" Jade's mind reeled. She would have laughed if circumstances had been different. "I have two sisters?"

"Yes, one half-sister." Dumbledore's eyes softened with what Jade realised was sadness. "The other passed away years ago."

She expelled a breath.

"A whole family and most of them are gone?"

"Your father was… older when you were born. He had already conceived his first two children, your half-sisters, eleven years before your birth. Both created a family of their own and had children. Two sons."

"Nephews. Still alive or six-feet-under?"

"No." Dumbledore smiled. "Still very much alive. And perfectly healthy."

"So I've two nephews. Did my mum know all of this?"

Jade dragged a hand through her light brown damp hair as he nodded silently. Then her gaze narrowed and pinned him to the spot. Her tone was accusing when she demanded, "How do you know all this?"

"Like I said, my dear, I knew your mother."

"Then why hasn't she ever mentioned you? Or any of this to me?" she shot back.

"After she learned of her pregnancy," Dumbledore explained patiently, "she made the decision to move away from… this environment, if you will."

"So she didn't want any reminders of her affair with my father. Understandable if he had a wife and kids he wasn't about to leave."

"It was her decision," he continued, ignoring her interruption, "to limit our correspondence over the years to matters of only the utmost importance. Why she has not told you I don't know."

His gaze was piercing and the smile playing at the corners of his mouth didn't quite reach his eyes. It unnerved her slightly. She glanced at a poster with a picture of a castle underneath the heading '_Hogwarts Academy_' that hung on the wall behind him and clung desperately to timeout the change of subject would give her.

"What is it that you do?"

"I am headmaster of a school." Dumbledore looked at her. "Hogwarts is the name and your nephew attends this school."

"Right," Jade said with not much conviction. Who had ever heard of a school called Hogwarts anyway?

Dumbledore clasped his hands together, considered. "Perhaps you would like to visit the school?"

Why that notion scared her more than she was ready to admit she couldn't answer. "I don't think –"

"Tell me, have there been any inexplicable events occurring lately, Ms. Devlin?" Though his tone of voice still remained friendly, there was now just a hint of steel behind it.

She forced a smile she didn't feel.

"Thank you for your concern, but everything's been going just fine." Except that she was making lousy pay, had no actual degree and little prospect of getting one in the near future and her mother had died just months ago.

"Nothing out of the ordinary? Curious visions, odd feelings, events you can't explain?"

A sliver of fear crept up her spine and she was unable to shake it off. "How did y –" She pursed her lips. That had been too easy. Anyone could have made that guess.

Stiffly, she rose to her feet.

"Thank you for your information, Mr. Dumbledore."

She didn't offer him her hand.

"I have other engagements today, if you'll excuse me."

Dumbledore nodded courteously and rose to his feet. "Of course. I especially appreciate your coming here today, Jade."

It wasn't until she had climbed into her rusty fiat panda, completely wet and dripping all over the plastic seat, that she rested her hands on the steering wheel, leaned her head against them and gave in to a long good cry while the rain pattered rhythmically against the windows.


	3. Mother's Heirloom : Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

_She walked down a narrow, winding earth track, her shoes treading silently on the grassy soil. All around her was a grass plane that stretched on as far as her eye could see. In front of her, the path disappeared into a line of thick black trees. The forest was dark, large and ominous. But she did not fear it. Instead, she rather felt something pulled her toward it._

_When she stepped out of the grassland and into the forest and the light almost immediately turned down low with only a few stray shimmers of moonlight sneaking through the canopy of trees, she did not need a lamp to see. She knew the way. It was dark and silent and every now and then a thin silvery finger would reach through the branches and light a spot of earth and rotting leaves. No grass grew here. The ground was littered with cones, thick with moss and ferns._

_An owl called out and darted by, barely ruffling the air._

_She moved past a dying tree stump. She could hear the gurgle of running water in a stream somewhere close by. Still, she walked on. The light was so soft it was as if she could feel it on her skin, the air so rich with scent it almost made her head reel. Pine and damp and the decaying logs that were the life source for new trees, the deceptively fragile look of the moss that spilled and spread and climbed everywhere, the sounds – the crunch of boots over needles and cones, the stirring of small animals that darted here and there on the night's business, the call of night birds. They all came together for her in their own special kind of silence._

_This was a place that belonged to her and her alone. And she smiled to herself when she reached the clearing in the middle of the forest. It was a circular patch of high grass where no trees grew. At the far end from where she stood at the fringes of the tree line was a large mountain of black rock, in its centre a small cave._

_It was more than just a sense of curiosity that had her stepping forward into the open space; it was a sense of belonging, of necessity. But the moment her boot touched the damp grass, a swish of ice swept past her, through her, almost knocking her off her feet._

_Instinctively, her head whipped around to confront the unknown force and she found herself looking straight into a pair of piercing eyes. Furious. Dark. _

_In shock, she stumbled back and bumped straight into a tree truck. The hard wood scraped the back of her arms, tore at her clothes, but she barely felt it as she looked round her, frantically, only to find the eyes gone._

_Thoroughly unnerved and more than a little worried about her sanity, she decided to go ahead and answer the silent call, the pull of the cave, as it became uncomfortably persistent. A presence was waiting for her. And she was determined to reach her destination. She took another step forward._

_With the speed of a bullet, the vision materialised before her, the angry eyes, glaring, threatening. Fear caught her by the throat and froze her to the spot. They were easily twice as large now and hovered between her and the cave. A sense of dread filled her every pore when its green masses began their approach. She whirled around, trying to find a way to escape, not caring anymore about destiny or belonging, only her life._

_A loud crack of thunder boomed through the air, splitting a tree in two less than twenty feet away from her._

_Panic soared through her, had her running back through the forest, scraping her legs and hands on the thorns of bushes that had she could have sworn had not been there minutes before. But to no avail. Wherever she turned, however fast she ran, the green eyes were glaring fiercely into hers, growing and piercing her very soul with a blackness and emptiness that suffocated her. _

_The thunder came faster and louder now. The dark orbs grew bigger and drew nearer, ever nearer until…_

Jade sat up in bed, breathing heavily and blinking against the moonlight that flowed in from her window. Her pyjamas were clammy and clung to her body which was damp with cold sweat and shivering despite the pleasant temperature in her bedroom. There was that dream again.

Ever since her mother's death six months ago she had dreamed the exact same sequence, over and over again. Sometimes it would be night after night, and at other times it would remain away for weeks or moths before returning. It never made any sense to her. She didn't know any forests. She lived in Yorkshire for crying out loud. There were no real forests to speak of, not like the one she had seen in her dream. And the last time she could remember actually being in one was during a school trip in seventh grade to some kind of Preservation Park in the western midlands. She only remembered it because Samuel (the boy that she had tackled during an important soccer match the week before so that he'd fallen flat on his face in front of the crowd) had stuck a dead, smelly frog into the hood of her jumper as payback and the whole class had laughed and she'd been too mortified to go to school the next day. Of course Rebecca had made her go anyway.

Over the weeks she had learned to look more deeply at the dream, concentrating more on her feelings and surroundings. So far she had never made it inside the cave she was approaching. She usually woke up feeling frustrated and confused. Since her return home three months ago the dream had returned with more frequency and an even greater urgency that typically left her too tired to sleep.

Swinging her feet over the side of the bed, Jade knew she would not sleep for quite some time so decided she might as well make herself a drink to warm up.

Her mother had never mentioned the name Dumbledore and Jade found herself wondering if they perhaps had met after she had moved out of the house. But that didn't seem right as she remembered Dumbledore saying clearly that he'd known her mother before she'd got pregnant and that they had remained in touch ever since. It just didn't make any sense.

Nothing did anymore.

It all began with a phone call several months ago. Jade was still living in Leeds at the time, still working in the same crappy pub with the same lousy pay under the excuse that she would go home the next week and patch things up with her mum. One evening she was just getting dressed for work, when her boss called to let her know she'd just been sacked; Something to do with too many employees and too little money, he said and assured her that it had nothing to do with her skills, then promptly disconnected and was 'out' when she called him back two minutes later, the next day (Jade had rather hoped he'd been pulling a joke) and one week later during work hours she hadn't been able to get him on the phone either.

The next day Jade went out, put her charms to work and got herself a job as a dispatch rider (which earned less and included longer hours) only to find a letter from her landlord on her doorstep informing her that he was upping her rent by ten percent, which she couldn't afford. At that moment she seriously considered just packing up her things and going home, but decided she didn't have the guts and, ignoring the phone that had been ringing all evening, convinced that it would convey another bad message, went out with two friends to get drunk instead.

When she woke up to the shrill ringing of the phone the following morning, her head throbbing with the force of a volcano erupting, she first downed two aspirins, sat down on a stool by the counter and braced herself as she answered the phone, prepared for every imaginable dreadful news. Earthquakes, terrorist attacks, a massive plague, everything.

Except for her mother's death.

She was told rather matter-of-factly by the police officer that her mother had been involved in a fatal car accident. Somewhere on a country road between Holmfirth and Longley she had collided with a tree at eighty miles an hour. There had been no oncoming traffic, no recent showers to make the roads slippery. The car had been in tiptop shape, her mother's blood alcohol level indicated no prior consumption of alcohol nor could the police find any skid marks on the road. To say that the investigation had strange and unexplainable results would be an understatement.

So when she was back home for the first time in years, for the first time alone, Jade was not in the least bit surprised to learn from a weirdo calling himself Dumbledore that she had a family she had never heard of before. After all, she should have expected it, the way everything else was going.

Her bare feet padded silently on the wooden floor, onto the cold tiles in the kitchen. Not bothering to turn on the lights in the hopes that sleep would catch up with her again, she flipped the switch on her coffee machine. If there was one thing in the world she could drink all day long it was coffee, freshly ground and newly made. She poured herself a large mug, picked up the postcard from Gina that she'd neglected to read before, and began reading on her way back to her bedroom. She sipped her coffee, paying little to no attention to her surroundings, when a muffled whisper had her freezing mid-step. Her eyes still on the postcard, her mug at her lips, she stood quite still, listening. Despite the conscious attempt to calm down, a cold ball of dread settled in the pit of her stomach. The sound had come from the hallway. Someone was inside her house; there was no way she had imagined it.

With all the bravado she could muster, she turned to where the sound had come from and found herself staring straight into a pair of dark eyes.

Terror grabbed her by the throat, suffocating her, freezing her to the spot. The action was automatic; her hand dropped the mug, where it smashed with a loud crash into pieces on the tiled floor, spilling scalding coffee at her feet, and moved to clap it over her mouth to stifle the scream that threatened to burst from her lips. Then her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she promptly passed out.

-

Please review? I appreciate any/all comments.


	4. Mother's Heirloom : Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

'…_don't think – good idea… Muggle.'_

'…_danger – Voldemort is looking…'_

'…_Order hasn't heard. Not even…'_

'…_decision.'_

"Now, if you don't mind, it seems our guest is beginning to come around."

Jade forced her eyes open, surprised to find a wooden ceiling with ruby draperies hanging from the sides. Clearly she was in a bed, a four-poster bed, a four-poster bed that was most definitely not her own. Glancing to her side, she met the blue-eyed gaze of Dumbledore. Bloody Hell. He hadn't kidnapped her, had he?

"Good morning, Ms. Devlin," he spoke kindly.

"Where am I?" she croaked as she sat up stiffly. Whatever had happened, she could remember everything up until the point where she had, no doubt, passed out. Though she had never lost conscious before, she was pretty sure she shouldn't be feeling this stiff.

"Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." Dumbledore offered her one of his pleasant smiles that was obviously meant to reassure her.

"You seem to have fainted when a few fellow teachers came to call on you."

"I do not faint," she said, offended. She was starting to feel less comfortable by the minute. If these were indeed the people who had come into – broken into, she corrected herself, her house in the middle of the night they were either dangerous or not quite right in the head. "Wait; did you just say Witchcraft and Wizardry?"

"Yes, I did," said Dumbledore. "I believe introductions are in order."

He took a step aside so that Jade had a clear view of the pair standing in the back of the room. They looked as if they'd just stepped out of a Ren Faire. As a matter of fact, she thought with a frown, so did Dumbledore.

"This is Minerva McGonagall," he motioned to a thin, rather severe-looking sixty-ish woman wearing emerald-green robes and a pointed hat. Her black hair, specked with some grey, was pulled back in a tight bun and square glasses rested on her nose. "Professor of transfiguration."

Though McGonagall nodded slightly in acknowledgement, Jade was sure she would have missed the motion had she not been looking for it in her stiff stance. She looked like a stone statue or a stuffed animal with a rod thrust up her backside. The thought caused Jade to smile a little.

"And Severus Snape, our Defence against the Dark Arts Professor."

There, standing partly hidden amidst the shadows was a tall, saturnine man dressed entirely in black with only a hint of white shirt at the collar and cuffs. Under the long hooded cloak that looked suspiciously much like a wizard's travelling outfit as Jade knew them from films and Fairs, his robes were buttoned up all the way to the chin, and from elbow to wrist.

His eyes were cold and black as coal. Deep dark pools, hinting at a razor sharp intellect, bored into Jade's, as if they might uncover some horrible secret there. His shoulder length black hair contrasted harshly with the paleness of his smooth skin. His face was inscrutable. He did not speak, but as McGonagall, merely nodded at her. But Jade felt he didn't need to. His enigmatic presence could be felt in every inch of the room, filling it with a tension that had surely not been there before.

"Now that the introductions are over, it is time to fill you in on a number of matters," Dumbledore spoke. He seemed unaware of Jade's appraisal of Snape, who was staring at her as if she was going to change into a pool of disgusting slime any minute now. "But never on an empty stomach, I say."

"I don't think I can eat anything right now."

"Your stomach could use a meal. You'll have something to keep up your strength before we begin."

Tired, hungry and feeling a headache developing steadily at the back of her head had never done any wonders for Jade's mood. And Jade wasn't known for her steady and quiet mood. Temper raised her to her compact 5'5". Not even the fact that she was wearing her pyjamas seemed to deter her.

"Let's get one thing straight here," she began, aware of the first stirrings of fury and hoping they would last before panic set it as she knew it undoubtedly would. "It was _you_ who came into _my_ house. It was _you_ who took me to this… place, without my consent, which I'm sure you know, qualifies as kidnapping. So you're not in any position to set any terms. I want some answers, and I want them now."

McGonagall shot Jade a withering look, her expression caught between deep offence and outrage. The fine line of her lips appeared even thinner, if that was possible.

But for all Jade cared, they could have stars shooting out of their arses. Right now she was riding on temper, and was glad for the courage it gave her. She quirked an eyebrow, ignored the strangely glittering stare Snape aimed at her. It seemed as if she had been instantly assessed and found lacking. The thought only caused to fuel her anger.

"Well?"

The look of haughtiness was so perfect, not even a tapping foot and hands resting akimbo on hips were needed.

After a moment, Dumbledore gave a quiet sigh, though his eyes were sparkling. "Very well, I see you are not to be put off. And as I see no vital reason why this request should not be granted, shall we take a seat? Now," he sat down and as Jade and the others followed, produced four already filled glasses out of thin air with the flick of his wand. "At the very least we can have a drink while we're at it."

Jade, sure now that she was beginning to hallucinate, took the glass he offered her, figuring that if she was already barking mad nothing he could have put into the drink would be able to worsen the situation. What the hell was wrong with her? she thought as she took a sip of the tasty beverage. Yesterday she'd fainted, and now she was seeing things. Surely, this couldn't be normal. She wondered vaguely, while she took another, larger swig, if it had anything to do with the dreams. It had to, she decided, feeling a warm calmness settle over her much like being wrapped in a cosy blanket, for the dreams had begun right after her mother had died and around the time she'd received Dumbledore's creepy letter. Only it didn't feel so creepy anymore. She was quite at ease; she felt warm, calm, relaxed and she thought that her mind was clearer than it had ever been before.

"Now, where to begin…" said Dumbledore and put his own goblet down. When Jade's quiet gaze settled on him, waiting patiently, he began to tell her of Hogwarts, the existence of wizards, witches and Muggles, he told her that her nephew attended the school, and explained something about an evil wizard under the name Voldemort. He then went on to tell her of her mother's letter to him and Rebecca's will and how under the present circumstances this would be safest for Jade.

"So you're saying I have to stay here?" Jade looked from Dumbledore for confirmation, who nodded, to McGonagall and Snape, who were both watching her stony-faced, the first disapproving, and the latter rather suspiciously, "because I'm in danger?"

"Yes," confirmed Dumbledore.

Because Jade couldn't remember him saying anything specific about this 'danger', she asked, "What kind of danger was that again?"

Dumbledore looked at her patiently again, then rose together with McGonagall and Snape. "I assure you this is where you will be safest, for now."

"Because of Vod – what was his name again?"

"Voldemort," Dumbledore supplied helpfully.

"Right, Voldemort. What about magic – I mean," Jade broke off, got to her feet in agitation and began to pace. Then she looked at Dumbledore, her eyes clearly portrayed her feelings, "I'm not…?"

"No."

"Then how…" Jade trailed off, throwing up her hands in a gesture of helplessness.

"Perhaps," said Dumbledore softly, "it would be more convincing if we were to show you?"

"Show me?" Jade responded faintly, afraid that what she had seen him do with the glasses a few minutes ago hadn't just been the hallucination she had been perfectly ready to believe.

"Yes."

"Show me what exactly?"

The headmaster offered her a bright smile. "Magic."

"Oh." Jade felt caught between a distinct feeling of giddiness and despair, as if a balloon filled with helium had been pumped into her stomach and was permanently lodged there.

"Severus," Dumbledore turned to Snape, "would you do the honour?"

He didn't look at all honoured, Jade thought dimly as she watched him step up. He picked up a green apple from the bowl on the desk and held it at arms length toward her and extracted a thin brown stick from his robes with his other hand. Pointing it at the fruit, he shot her a brief glance to ensure she was paying careful attention and spoke, quite softly, "_Engorgio_."

Instantly the apple began to swell until it was at least three times the size it had been when he'd picked it up.

Three pairs of eyes focused on her. Two looked particularly impatient.

"_That's_ your magic?" Because suspicion and disbelief were easier to deal with than the panic she was sure would catch up with her in just a few moments, she laughed. "Cool. What trick did you do? Where's the other apple?"

Snape's eyes were disdainful as he stared at her. She knew he was about to say something, and from the look on his face she didn't expect it would be particularly pleasant. But before he had a chance to open his mouth, Dumbledore was already speaking.

"Perhaps," he intervened, and the apple vanished with a flick of his hand, "Ms. Devlin would appreciate some time alone. It's been a long night and an even longer morning, and I daresay we could all use a nap and a meal."

At Jade's nod, he pressed his hands together and looked positively cheerful. "Wonderful. I hope these accommodations will suit your needs." He took hold of a thick golden rope hanging by the door. "If you'll require need of any kind, just pull this cord here. You will find everyone to be especially helpful. If not," the corners of his mouth quirked up, "they shall answer to me."

And no more than thirty seconds later, Jade was alone in the circular room, staring at the bowl from which most definitely one apple was missing. Dumbledore had given her a reassuring squeeze in the hands, which she hadn't really needed, before taking his leave. McGonagall had managed a forced nod of acknowledgement that had turned into a slightly more honest smile after a moment, while Snape had uttered her name in the curtest of manners, all the while never letting his eyes off her, as if he was expecting something from her. She decided not to think of it.

Jade took in the room. It was cosy, round and contained several squashy armchairs facing a blazing hearth roughly her length in width. The sofa that she had sat on moments before stood opposite the lively fire, right next to a door that led to the adjacent room. It was a small, modest bedroom. Inside it stood an impressive four-poster hung with deep red, velvet curtains. It had a homey feel to it, if you enjoyed living like a stately queen, with thick dark rugs covering the stone floor. Shelves filled with plentiful books of all sorts and sizes lined the walls. There were candles in all places and two oil lamps stood on a desk and the nightstand. But there were no switches, nor hung there any lamps from the ceiling. Instead, there was an old-looking chandelier with fat candles.

Bemused, Jade sank down on the soft bed. Just to gather her thoughts. Before she even realised that she had closed her eyes she was already vast asleep.

-

Please let me know your thoughts!


	5. Mother's Heirloom : Chapter 5

**CHAPTER FIVE**

-

Who could have guessed that Betty's late night bedtime stories about witches and wizards and strange creatures were not just reality bordering myths rewritten according to her own fantasies, but tales of people who actually existed? Tales her mother undoubtedly must have told her most trusted friend, Betty, and then declared, in typical Rebecca fashion, to have been a slip of the brandy-affected tongue. Betty always insisted there was no such thing as a slip of the tongue, but she did keep her vow of silence. In typical Betty fashion; by telling Jade stories about faraway lands of magic that in reality weren't so very far away at all.

Scowling at the huge doorway of the Great Hall before her, she resisted the urge to hit something, or someone in particular. Those taekwondo practises she'd practised from seventh through twelfth year had sure been handy. When she'd awoken that morning and gone to see Dumbledore to demand an explanation, this filthy street bum had rather unceremoniously told her that Dumbledore was away (at London he added with a sneer) and would not return before this afternoon. Seeing as how she'd technically been kidnapped, then been told she was in some kind of danger, and subsequently had to leave her room and face the man dressed in pyjamas didn't precisely raise her spirits. So when the smelly hobo said he would graciously (Jade doubted the guy knew how to spell the word) show her to the Great Hall where meals were served, naturally not failing to point out that she'd already missed breakfast, and identify her nephew for her, the infamous (he'd hissed this part, his spit flying in all directions and just barely missing her) Harry Potter, she felt just about ready to try out a few kicks on him. But that would mean stepping closer to him than the five feet currently separating them and personally she'd rather have declared her undying love to Sam Millstone and joined his harem of fourteen-year-old groupies if it meant Filch and his killer breath would crawl back into the dirty hole he'd come from.

Unfortunately, it seemed luck had turned its back on her the day she was born because he stuck to her side like a tick on a dog, and looked as if nothing less than something close to a tsunami would deter him from carrying out his task. So, she had no choice but to follow him.

-

Ron Weasley swallowed, his brows drawing together as he pieced the bits of information together over the breakfast plate set before him. Heaped with a generous amount of eggs, sausages, bacon, toast and beans, it had Hermione and Harry shooting it speculating looks. "Right, let me see if I got this straight. Your grandfather, that would be your mum's dad, had an affair with Jade's mum. They split up. Then she has Jade, though we don't know whether your granddad knew about that. Or if your grandmother or anyone else knew either. That makes her your mum's half-sister, and basically your aunt." He swallowed a forkful of eggs, and whistled. "Wow."

"Yeah. I'll second that," Harry muttered, staring down into his tea, his plate untouched before him.

"But if she's your aunt," Ron continued contemplatively, "why were you placed with, you know –"

"The Dursleys?" Harry supplied with spite. "I've been asking myself the same thing. It just doesn't make sense."

"Maybe," Hermione began, hesitantly. "Maybe Dumbledore didn't know about her?"

Ron looked genuinely surprised. "Dumbledore knows everything, Hermione. I mean, he's… Dumbledore," he finished rather lamely.

"That doesn't mean he has to know everything," she pressed, slightly annoyed. "If your grandfather had an affair, Harry, don't you think he would have kept it silent? I think it would be only logical that he wouldn't want anyone to know about it. If you add to that the fact that Petunia is your mother's sister, whereas Jade is only her half-sister, it might explain why Dumbledore picked the Dursleys'."

"I know." Harry released a breath, rubbed at his scar in a subconscious gesture that showed his aggravation. "The whole thing just doesn't sit well with me. She's up to something."

"Who?" Ron shoved the last of the muffin into his mouth. "Jade?"

"Yes."

"What makes you say that?" Hermione asked.

Harry scratched his head in an absent move. Should he tell them about the dreams he'd been having lately? They would probably think his head was missing a screw. God knew he was wondering the exact same thing. Hadn't they reacted just that way when he'd told them he could talk to snakes three years ago? Then again, three years was a long time. A lot had happened since then, and, apart from Dumbledore, they were the only two people in the world whom he trusted completely.

"I don't know. It's just odd that just after –" he had to swallow here, hoped they didn't notice "– Sirius asks me to come live with him she appears out of nowhere. A family member no one knew existed. The timing is just completely off." He shrugged his shoulders in a move stemming more from frustration than anything else. "I don't trust her."

He looked up at Hermione's jab in his ribs just in time to see Jade approaching their table,

and just as he thought, figures, absently noticed that she had the same colour hair as Petunia, except that where Petunia's was straight-as-a-pin-hair Jade had slight curls that resembled tangles more than anything else.

"So," said Ron, stretching on the pleasantries a bit thick. "Hi, Jade."

"Hey," she responded with a quick smile and joined their table with a casual ease she didn't feel. Her eyes were still just a little bit pink at the edges, and though she'd changed into her own clothes (courtesy of McGonagall's magic wand), she felt as if was a deep hole was growing somewhere deep inside her and that part of her was missing. If she could, she would be on the other side of the globe right now; lying bundled up under the covers with a trashy novel, a glass of wine and huge amounts of chocolate. But she had to face the music sometime, and figured it was best to get it over with now.

"What are you guys talking about?"

"Dwarfs," Ron replied on a surprising surge of inspiration and earned himself a disgusted look from Hermione. "Did you hear about the dwarf sightings in the Cairngorm Mountains?"

Jade's eyebrows drew together in an expression caught between bewilderment and amusement. "Can't say that I have."

"There are no dwarfs in Great Britain, Ron," Hermione told him, only slightly exasperated and embarrassed for him. "They moved to Transylvania more than half a decade ago."

Jade was still wrestling with the notion that dwarfs existed when Ron shot back, "Well, I'm just saying I read it in the Daily Prophet is all. Apparently there have been sightings all over Britain. The only one they've been able to prove so far is a stunned dwarf some Muggles found in the mountains. Wonder what they were doing wandering out there in the middle of the night for though."

"Maybe they were camping," Harry suggested and ignored Ron's expression at the term. "What else does it say?"

"Oh, not much. Just that they stunned the dwarf and brought him to the Ministry for questioning. The Muggles' memories were modified, obviously." Then, "I can ask dad about it."

"He'll just tell you exactly the same. Honestly, Ron, there are no dwarfs in Britain," Hermione told him. "And if they did actually find one, I'm sure there's a perfectly reasonable explanation."

Ron ignored her as he leaned over to Harry in a move that emanated secrecy and had Jade grinning at Hermione's sneer. "I bet You-Know-Who is using them like he's using the giants."

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"You-Know-Who?"

Three pairs of eyes focused on Jade, who looked more confused by the second. "Err –" Hermione stalled, shooting an uncertain glance at Harry who was refusing to meet her gaze leafing through his Potions book.

"That's Voldemort. Most wizards and witches fear using his real name," she explained. Then, "We'd better get going now; we have Potions class in ten minutes."

That went well, Jade thought sarcastically. She had managed to talk to Harry and his friends, though he hadn't technically said anything to her. She figured it would improve in time, hoped it would, and decided to do some exploring in the meantime.

For over thirty minutes, Jade walked around the castle through winding dark corridors, passing portraits that whispered and moved inside their canvasses and she was captivated, amused, sometimes quite shocked when one of them stared after her and, when he thought she wasn't looking, pointed a long, bony finger at her back. Jade received her second shock of the day when the marble staircase she was descending suddenly jerked and began to move on its own. Rooted to the ground in shock, she stirred herself into action by grabbing the banister just in time and then could only stare in stunned disbelief as the staircase slowly but steadily changed its destination. She didn't waste any time in getting off the bloody thing, vowing to herself that she would never live in a house with stairs, and found herself in a dark, windowless corridor that seemed to stretch on for miles before being swallowed up by darkness. Creepy, she decided and noticed there were no doors either as she wandered down the torch lit passageway. At the far end of the corridor, there was one single door, flanked by two torches.

It was an odd room, was the first thing Jade thought as she stepped inside. Large and circular in form with a high and spacious ceiling it defied every law of a dungeon room. It held several more adjoined rooms in various sizes that appeared to have been added at different points in time. And architecturally speaking, not that Jade knew zilch about architecture save for the occasional Discovery program she'd zapped through in boredom, it was a miracle the place was still standing. By all means it should have collapsed ages ago.

Jade threw a doubtful glance at the wooden staircase that led up to a window and a tiny bookcase attached hazardously to the wall, and wondered what kind of magic could possibly hold this upright. It better be strong because she didn't fancy herself being squashed by gazillion of old mouldy books.

There were endless rows of shelves busting with books in all kinds of shapes and coverings while the heavy gherkin green drapes hanging on the tiny windows' flanks absorbed half the midday sun that definitely should not be reaching this far down in the dungeons. Come to think of it, there shouldn't be any windows at all, much less any direct sunlight. Assuming that was another aspect that could be attributed to magic at work, Jade went to observe the trinkets laying about in every crook and corner that wasn't filled with oil lamps, quills, pieces and rolls of parchment, scrolls and a five-inch layer of dust. Books titled _Magical Theory in Practice_, _Last March of the Giants_, _History of the Dead Three: 'Knucklebones, skull bowling, and the empty throne'_ and _A History of Durpar's Deep_ lay in a cluttered pile on an even more cluttered desk.

Next to them was a small smudged mirror, but when Jade looked into it, it did not reflect her image. Instead, it showed several vague shadows gliding in and out of the glass. They were indistinct and awfully out of focus and they didn't seem to be doing anything except just float there. Already having lost interest in anything that did not have a specific cool purpose that was simple and understandable to the average (what she had learned was a) Muggle, she put it back next to where a book laid, its pages open on a drawing of a pair of earrings.

Squinting, Jade leaned closer as she brushed the dust away. And felt instantly rooted to the spot. The earrings were drawn in the colour brown, they were delicate, small and in the shape of two distinct claws. They looked beautiful, and exactly like the ones her mother had left her.

Unconsciously her hand fingered the earring she was wearing, and she read the small lettering under the drawing that said 'Rowena Ravenclaw'. With a frown, she wondered what that could mean. Then she shrugged. Maybe they were old pieces, like antiques, and worth a lot of money. Just because this was the Wizarding world didn't mean they couldn't appreciate excellent jewellery. It would explain why her mother had kept them in a safe and written them down in her will to be passed onto her.

Jade was just stepping away from the table when she caught a gleam of light out of the corner of her eye.

A dazzling bright jewel shone back at her. The necklace was a fine, ancient gold cord twisted into a huge, blood red opal. It simply begged to be picked up, as if its only wish was to be worn after years of neglect.

She reached out and touched the stone. It felt cool to the touch, almost liquid, its texture smooth. It would look absolutely gorgeous on her dusky skin, Jade decided, and rest seductively at the top valley of her breasts.

Her hands were already lifting the ornate necklace carefully, lovingly, from its silver casing, while she justified to herself that every woman should have worn a piece of exquisite beauty at least once in her life. Besides, it wasn't as if she was ever going to wear something this valuable ever again. She didn't have the money, or the wish for ridiculously priced pieces of jewellery.

Her hands fiddled a little with the necklace, but finding no clasp on the gold, lifted the chain to place it over her head.

"Don't!"

She started to scream, almost dropping the blasted thing when she whirled around. But a hand was clamped on her wrist, the other snatching the necklace from her.

She wriggled round to find herself looking at her ex-favourite black eyes.

"You," she accused in a low tone. "What the hell is wrong with you? Is scaring people to death a hobby of yours?" She released the shaky breath in a whoosh, felt her legs tremble as they turned to jelly. "Bloody hell."

"What are you doing here?" Snape released his death grip on her arm, but kept the necklace firmly in his gloved hand while he pried it from her protesting fingers.

"There's no need to get your panties in a twist."

"Be quiet," he hissed. His eyes were icy, vicious. And just a little insane. "What were you thinking?"

He was scared. She could see it in his eyes.

"Look," she said firmly, deciding to explain it to him in the calm and rational manner one would use on a five-year-old to make him see reason. "The necklace was lying on the table. It looked nice. I thought I'd put it on. I wasn't going to steal it." Then, "It's not like I've committed a crime, now is it?"

Her eyes were so understanding, so reasonable he wanted to hit her over the head with it. Sometimes he wondered how humankind had managed to advance to such a level when most of its species were stupidity personified. He clamped down on the rage waging war inside his chest.

"What are you doing here?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "Exploring." As if it was the most ordinary thing in the world and he was stupid for asking.

"Exploring." He repeated it, slowly, carefully and thought briefly about counting to ten. "How did you get in here?"

"I opened the door."

"Broke in, you mean." The hand that, Jade now noticed, was clasping a wand aimed at her chest clenched. "How?"

His eyes fell on the penknife. They gleamed as his already thinning mouth broke into a snarl. "Potter. I should have known."

And then, with a speed so fast and unexpected Jade didn't even have the chance to blink he'd shoved her into a chair. "You are in a restricted part of Hogwarts." If she wasn't mistaken, he was shaking from anger.

If Jade was known for one thing, it wasn't her calm nature. She gave as good as she got. "So?"

She pushed up from the chair, glared straight back at him, and just refrained from poking a finger at his chest. Something told her he wouldn't tolerate that. "I got lost."

"You've been here long enough to know that this section of the dungeon is off limits."

"I've also been here long enough to know that no one is bothering to tell me anything."

"There are things you do not need to know."

"Oh, that's just bollocks," she shot back, sitting down now because her legs were feeling slightly wobbly. He'd startled her. "So much is happening I don't understand, whispers die down when I approach, and I don't know half of what the entirety of Hogwarts seems to know. I have a right to know."

"So you take up sneaking around the castle?"

"Well –" she stared back at him with al the defiance she could muster, and it wasn't much, "– if it gets me answers."

"Far be it from me," snarled Snape, and he bent down, a hand on each arm of Jade's chair, so that their faces were a foot apart. "But not everything revolves around your persona, Devlin."

"That doesn't change the fact that I have a right to know what's going on, Snape." She attempted another glare, saw it had no effect on him whatsoever, saw that he still didn't trust her. So she changed tactics.

"Look. You frightened me. You're frightening me even more now. Put the wand down." Then, because he made no move to do so, "Please?"

He frowned.

"Very well," he said and straightened up. And, like that, the moment had passed.

She shot the necklace one last look of longing. Then made peace with the fact that she wouldn't be putting it on.

"What's the big deal with this necklace anyway? And how come there's light shining through the windows? I thought this was below ground level."

She'd switched dispositions so fast and so completely, Snape couldn't help but be intrigued by it, by her. "Enchanted windows," he said shortly and strode across the room to replace the necklace in its silver case that he snapped shut, locked.

Realising there was no way he would let her within twenty feet of that necklace ever again (or a hundred if he could manage it), Jade returned her attention to the gyroscope-like looking device she had checked out before. It was giving off a faint whistling sound.

"What's that?"

"I said, don't touch anything." He snapped it with such exasperation that she retracted her hand. "This necklace is cursed and has claimed the lives of nineteen Muggles to date." Though there was no censure in his eyes, they were stone cold. "You are lucky not to have become number twenty."

"Oh."

Because she looked so scared all of a sudden, he swallowed his next words, and ignored his mind when it questioned why he should care. "Have you touched anything else?"

"No. Nothing," she lied, and hoped he couldn't tell.

He didn't frown, or reply, as he turned and swept from the room, expecting her to follow. He'd seen the open book on the table, the trinkets that were slightly out of place, but had opted not to speak. He had a feeling that he would get more out of her if he didn't push her into answering things she wasn't ready to admit. If his instincts were right, and they always were, pushing her would only cause her to close up.

"Come," he said over his shoulder. "Dumbledore has arrived and he wishes to speak with you."

-

"Jade."

Dumbledore's eyes widened slightly as if he was surprised to see her in his office. "Severus found you. Good. Good." He came around from the back of the room, his hand a fluttering gesture. "Come in, have a seat."

Jade took a step forward to do just that when she noticed McGonagall standing by the fire nook, staring silently into the leaping flames. Snape closed the door behind them and came to stand next to her. Her eyes narrowed when no one spoke or met her eye.

"What's going on?"

Dumbledore looked up at her, with an odd little half smile, and gestured at the chair in front of his desk again. "Have a seat."

A lick of anger began to spread through her, smouldering quietly. "I'll stand." She looked at each of them in turn, McGonagall who was still refusing to meet her eye, standing stiffly by the fire as she now watched Dumbledore with thin lips, Snape who had not moved since closing the door and who was sporting a look so bland she might have thought he was oblivious to anything going on around him, and then settled on Dumbledore. He'd stopped pacing. "What's this about?"

"Have a seat, Jade." Though his tone was still friendly, it brooked no argument this time, and Jade found herself obeying him as he did the same. But her frustration was far from checked. And when he didn't appear to be willing to elaborate, what little she had left of her patience snapped. No one bothered to tell her anything. And just now, she'd apparently almost got herself killed. It was the last drop that had the bucket overflowing.

"I want to know why I'm here," she said and there was a hint of fear mingled in with the annoyance. "I want to know what kind of danger you think I'm in. I want to know this and I won't be put off." She was on a roll now, and it felt good, it felt as if she finally had some of that control back. She squared her shoulders, sat up straighter. "If you don't tell me now, I'm going to turn around and march right out of your pretty castle straight back to Holmfirth. And if I ever see any of you ever again or if I so much as think I do, I'll go to the police and report you."

Dumbledore sighed lightly, his right hand absently drumming on the chair rest.

"Yes, you're quite right," he conceded. "When your mother died four months ago –"

"What does this have to do with my mother?"

"I had reason to believe that you are in danger," he continued, ignoring her interruption. "There were signs, small things you wouldn't have picked up on yourself, but others that you may have noticed. The dreams, in particular, peculiar incidents, people bumping into you on the street, odd people."

"I'll admit I've seen my dose of freaks to last me a lifetime, but I don't see how this has anything to do with me being in danger. I've never been mugged, or harassed, or followed."

His smile disappeared. "You are being followed. You have been ever since you returned home."

"What do you mean I'm being followed?" Looking more annoyed than shocked, she frowned. "That's ridiculous. I find that very hard to believe."

"And you would know you're being followed, how?" Snape said from beside her. Though his words were sarcastic, his tone wasn't.

Jade turned furious eyes at him. "I might not be a detective, but I'm not an idiot either. I would have noticed if there were any shady characters hanging around, or following me for that matter. I'm not blind and I'm not an idiot. And I would appreciate it if you didn't treat me as such."

McGonagall stepped forward then, and said quietly, "They are well disguised. You wouldn't know."

"Minerva and Severus managed to find you, follow you to your home, and enter when you were there. You didn't know this until they were standing right in front of you." Dumbledore stopped the tapping and interlinked his hands on the desk. "We know for a fact that you are being watched and that you are in grave danger. This is why we brought you here, where you are safe."

"Who are _they_?" she snapped, rising to her feet and running a hand through her hair as she began to pace. She was exasperated by their vague theories and assumptions, and just a little bit afraid. "And what could they possible want from me?"

"_They_," Snape intoned, watching her from the same spot, "are the same people who followed your mother."

"My mother?" Jade let out a short bark of laughter. "This is getting crazier with every minute. Now you're telling me my mother was being followed by the same…"

Her face went very still, very pale, and she froze in her tracks.

"The accident was no accident. That's what you're saying, that's what you really think, isn't it?" She shot an accusing look at them. "You think they, whoever the hell _they_ are, followed my mother and murdered her. And you think now they're after me. I've got to tell you, I've heard some crazy shite, but this sure beats it. Christ, for a moment there you actually had me going."

Three pairs of eyes stared at her. Stern, compassionate and blank.

"Jade," Dumbledore said finally, his voice so kind and so soft that Jade felt something break inside. Her eyes began to sting. "Your mother's death was not an accident."

"Why would you say something like that? Why? I don't believe it." The angry pink colour had drained, turning her face white, white and drawn and suddenly dull. "Why would anyone want to – to…" her voice broke, tears threatened to spill and panic clawed at her throat, but she forced it back, "Why would anyone want her gone? She has never done anything to anyone." She turned pleading eyes on Snape, because he was nearest. "She went to church, every Sunday she went to mass. And she prayed, every single night, she prayed. She was never anything other than kind to people. Why would anyone want to hurt her?"

Her face was crumpled, tears flowing freely down her cheeks as she clung to the desperate hope that someone was going to tell her that she was right, that Rebecca was a good person and that no one would have wanted her gone and that her death was just an accident. Then it all collapsed as she slid down to the floor. "Oh, my God, no." She wiped furiously at her eyes. If she could stop crying, if she could get the tears to stop, then maybe this would stop too. "No. No, no, no."

"Get up, for God's sake." Glaring, Snape marched up to her, grabbed Jade by the arms to haul her up.

Jade's breath hitched in and out, in and out. Her big, hazel eyes swam. "She was murdered?"

"Yes."

The tears spilled over, flooded her cheeks. On a cry, she dropped her head on Snape's shoulder and clung.

Severus fought his first instinct to pull away. Under the watchful eyes of Dumbledore and Minerva, he let her weep, hold on and weep. For the moment that he knew she needed to process the grief. Then he pulled back.

"Pull yourself together."

She raised red, horrified eyes to his. "Mmm… yes." She rubbed her hands over her face, took a couple of deep cleansing breaths, shot them a look. "I need a minute."

Once the initial shock had worn down and all that remained was a dull sense of loss, she could begin to come to terms with the things she'd been told. She couldn't understand for the life of her that someone would want to cause her mother harm. But then, murder never was something she could understand. If her mother had indeed been followed, and now she was being watched as well, did that mean that whoever had killed her mother wanted her dead too?

A wall of solid dark green stepped in front of her.

Jade looked up to find McGonagall holding out a handkerchief. Her eyes were strained, and her mouth set in a thin line, but somewhere underneath it all she read kindness and compassion.

"I propose you stay with us for a while," Dumbledore said as she dabbed at her face. "We don't know what he's after yet, so until we find out, I think it would be safest if you stayed here at Hogwarts."

-

Please review! Reviews are the food I live off, they make me write faster and with greater pleasure. Please let me know what you think.


	6. Mother's Heirloom : Chapter 6

**CHAPTER SIX**

-

_Above the gently rustling trees of the Forbidden Forest a dusting of stars speckled the inky sky. The moon was full tonight and it shone fierce and bright, watching over all. As the first leaves began to fall, the quiet wind turned into a gale. Jade had seen storms appear quickly, but the one that was sweeping down from the heavens was like a bolt from an angry god._

_Certain she was imagining things; Jade rubbed furiously at the moisture on the pane of her bedroom window and peered outside. Through the melting snow rushing furiously at the glass she beheld a tall-shaped wall of ice standing right in the middle of the Forbidden Forest as if it was some kind of focus of worship. Wild women whipped their hands in magical patterns on top of the frozen barrier, their snow-white robes poorly covering rime-armoured flesh._

_Jade heard a sharp cry followed by a crack in the sky as a bolt of lightning struck what appeared to be a child's body at the fringes of the forest. On both sides stood women, furiously chanting with hands and faces raised to the sky, as the snowstorm waged war around them and beat at their whipping robes in wrath. _

_The body slumped to the ground, lifeless._

_What frightened Jade wasn't so much the storm, or the ice pelting down violently, or even the strange women who should have died of hypothermia by now, but the silence that followed. As if nothing had happened in these last few moments, the sky cleared, the wind died down and the wild women relaxed and lowered their arms. The storm abated in no more than a heartbeat. There was no sound, no motion, but the cold face of one of the women looking up sharply and staring straight into Jade's eyes with an emotion that was so strong, she was sure she felt her insides freeze over. She had just experienced hate in its purest form._

Jade shot up in bed with a desperate gasp for air. She shivered when a trickle of cold sweat ran down her back. It was a dream, just a dream, she told herself, running a shaking hand through her hair. But it had seemed so real.

She leaped out of bed, drew the curtains aside, and released a loud breath when all she saw was a clear black sky and a half-full moon peeking out from behind a thick layer of clouds. What had she been thinking? she thought, expecting to see a body lying there among the white clad women with dark stormy clouds hovering above them? Jade gave a self-depreciating laugh that held no mirth. She was going mental. The skies were clear, there were no traces of any wild women, and no hints of ice or snow anywhere. Though it was late November, the first snow had yet to fall in the highlands.

Just as she turned away from the view, a glimmer caught her eye. She pressed her face against the window and peered closer. The moonlight was reflecting something. Something, Jade realised, that looked very much like a human body.

Not wasting another moment, she threw on a pair of trainers, donned an extra jumper and was out the door in less than ten seconds.

With the pressing urgency of time pulsing through her Jade ran across the grass, wasting no thoughts on the fact that she'd been told not to venture anywhere outside the grounds of Hogwarts alone at night. A child was either dead or most likely dying right now, if it hadn't frozen to death already. If she could only reach it in time; she might be its only hope.

She dashed past a lump of trees towards the location where she was sure she'd seen the body fall down after being hit. She was scanning the unrevealing bush along the tree line for some kind of sign of what had happened here, when a dark lumpy shadow several feet ahead caught her eye. Her sleeve caught on a branch and when she worked to free the material from the wood, her hand came away smeared with dark blood. It was thick and sticky, and she smelled a heavy odour of iron in the air. Expecting the worst, the bleeding flesh and hammered bone, sure now that the child must have been battered up beyond help, she forced herself to look.

Two eyes, dull and filmy with death, stared unseeingly back at her like a set of jaws. Already they had a misty whiteness covering them. The inanimate body was small, but from what she could see in the little moonlight it was not a child's body that lay there mangled. It resembled a small person and did not appear to be breathing. She kneeled down, her hand reaching out to touch the flesh, jerking back at its chill. Jade frowned, her brows scrunched up in deep thought. She didn't know much about death, but whoever this person was, he had been dead for quite a while – rigor mortis had already set in, and he had undoubtedly been killed by someone or something other than the lightning bolt.

His flesh was raw, bloody and held a bluish tint that overshadowed his dark complexion, and it was steaming with a sickening combination of burned hair and skin. At least she hadn't imagined the lightning. He was wearing some kind of leather harness, studded and padded at the shoulders, ripped near his gut. Around his neck he wore a small but eye-catching tarnished bronze plaque that read, '_Grisella Quimby – Artisan's District – 651'_.

The blood that had pooled around the body caught the light as she rose and smeared the filth from her hands, looking to the trees yet again. And then she straightened up, wary suddenly, catlike and alert. At five-foot-five and a hundred and ten pounds, she was small, feminine in the hips and though rather thin-looking, she was in good shape and ready for anything.

Almost anything. Her heart hammered in her throat as she squinted at the thick trees, seeing nothing but black. She turned slowly around, once, twice, as if she'd forgotten something – a set of keys, her wallet, her mobile. What had startled her to alertness was a sudden snap from within the forest. But all was silent now and, she reasoned, if there was indeed someone hiding in the trees to jump her he would have seized his chance when she had been bent over the body.

Another snap, louder this time, closer. Her heart tripped as she scanned the trees again, slowly backing away from them, her stance alert and ready. An owl hooted far up in the sky. Its shadow shot by. She was dizzy. Sweating. She couldn't seem to control her hands. "It's nothing," she whispered to herself, repeating it over and over like a mantra. "It's probably just a squirrel." But she could hear more sounds now, muffled, and yet steady and deliberate.

Footsteps.

Fighting down the urge to run, even as her mind screamed at her to get out now, while she still could, she forced herself to calm down. She had to pull herself together, keep her senses alert while she figured out a plan to escape. Sure that if she turned to run the person would jump out from behind a nearby tree and slash her in tiny little pieces, she kept her eyes intent on the trees ahead, willing her hands to unclench and her heart rate to slow down, when a glint of light caught her eye through the dark scrim of trees to her immediate right.

Blindly, she staggered back. But just as quick she forced herself to halt. Remain calm, she reminded herself, don't panic. But it was more than just the innocent flash of water reflecting, it was real and tangible. And it was moving!

That was all Jade saw before she whirled around and pushed her legs into a sprint. She had taken no more than a few steps when a number of things happened in rapid succession. First, she saw a figure running towards her, armed with a wand directed at her. Then a shout followed and a cry of pure agony. Sparks flew. A shove in the back had her falling forward on her hands, and then the world went black.

"Severus." A black figure stepped out of the shadows. Its movements were flowing, effortless and spoke of a quiet grace that was as much innate as it was nurtured.

Snape froze briefly, then lowered his wand and stepped closer. "What are you doing here?" he hissed.

"You know the Dark Lord's orders. I am here to fulfil them." Several strands of perfectly straight silver hair spilled out of the hood as the figure moved in palpable agitation. "Now step aside so I may finish it."

"I know my orders." Snape noted the delicate, trembling hands and his own gripped his wand more firmly. "I wasn't aware of yours."

She jerked a slim shoulder, glaring at the small body lying several feet away. "They are not mine strictly speaking. But it has to be done, and –"

"You think it will release Draco of his duty," he finished for her, and his gaze narrowed at her glittering stare. "You know it won't."

"I can try. I need to try." She turned glistening eyes at him. "I'm his mother. He needs me."

"He needs you here," Snape said quietly, "not in Azkaban."

Her lips parted and she uttered a soft cry.

Reading it for the verge of despair she was on, Snape stepped closer to her and looked her straight in the eyes. There was no mercy there. "Listen to me. Dumbledore is watching. I cannot afford for her to come to any harm, do you understand? It is the Dark Lord's wish." Then his brows drew together and his eyes went hard. "You will not touch her, Narcissa."

"No." And now her eyes were clear, dry and resolute. "I _will_ finish this. She's just a Muggle one way or the other. You can defend her if you feel that is your duty, Severus," her eyes glowed brightly in the moonlight with the fixed determination of a mother trying to protect her only child, "so your cover shan't be blown. We both know I must do this. For Draco."

"You asked me to take the Vow," he reminded her. "If you feel this is your only option, wait until his task is completed. Think, Narcissa think for one minute. Do you wish to meet the same fate as Lucius? Do you wish for Draco to have both his parents locked up in Azkaban?"

When something in her eyes flickered, Snape recognised he'd struck a cord and pushed, hard, "Oh," he whispered with a hint of drawn out reverence, "because the Dark Lord will, Narcissa, oh, He will. You know this. He does not take kindly to having his orders disobeyed."

"He's my only son."

"He'll become your only, late son if you don't step back. You'll just do him more harm if you do this. Wait," Snape said with a trace of impatience when her lips trembled. "And when Draco's task is fulfilled you shall strike and take all the credit, for it will be yours. You and Draco will be honour –"

An ugly cough broke through the conversation.

Utter silence fell.

Two pairs of eyes locked on the figure lying a few feet away as it began to stir.

"Sev –" Jade broke off as a bout of coughs racked her, threatening to spill out her insides. "Severus, is that you?"

Narcissa and Snape stared at each other in utter and frozen silence. Both minds were racing, but Snape's eyes were steady and deliberate, and focused on hers. With a last look caught somewhere between sympathy and contempt, Narcissa Malfoy disappeared in the Forest.

Jade was just scrambling shakily to her feet when she heard Snape shout, "Run!"

But she had no intention of running. First off, the only thing standing between her and whoever was trying to kill her was Severus and he was _here_, and secondly, even if she'd try to run she would never have made it back to the safety of the castle in time. She staggered back a few steps and watched the scene in front of her unfold with growing horror.

His wand aimed at the flutter of fabric in the trees between them he let fly a jet of yellow light just as the figure cried, "_Avada Kedavra!_"

The result was that the blast of green missed Jade by inches and the figure, losing her wand at Snape's quick retaliation with "_Expelliarmus!_", scrambled off the ground and launched herself at Jade.

Before Jade had even registered the movement, she'd been knocked back and had plunged headfirst into the total blackness of water darkened by the now moonless night.

-

She didn't know what had pulled her so deep into the lake. One moment she was fighting for her life on dry land, and the next she was breathing in water, struggling to reach the surface as she sunk down deeper and deeper into the lake. Whatever it was pulling her down; it was holding her back from reaching the surface. Icy twiggy fingers grabbing at her feet exerted amazing strength as they cut into her flesh. Anger and panic coiled inside her stomach as she concentrated instead on swiping away the half a dozen horned pale green creatures that were clutching her legs.

When three of them let go in surprise at the counterattack, she used the moment to her advantage. Lungs screaming, muscles weeping, she kicked hard towards the surface. White lights danced in front of her eyes. She prayed it was moonlight on the surface. She was clawing at the water now, fighting not to panic as it seemed to come alive and drag her down. Her shoes felt like lead, and her right arm, in which one creature had sunk its nasty green teeth, quivered from the strain.

When the air gave out, she flailed, struggled against her body's desperate need to breathe. Weakened, floundering, she began to sink.

Then she was rising up again as hands pulled her towards the surface.

She broke through, choking, coughing up water, wheezing as air, blessed air, filled her lungs. Still, she shoved weakly at Snape as he towed them both towards the bank.

She all but fell onto the ground when he pulled her out of the water. "Can't breathe," she managed. "Can't breathe."

"Yes, you can. One breath. Inhale. Now another one." He felt the tightness in his stomach begin to ease when she started to draw in air. "Keep it up."

"I'm okay."

He simply held her head down. "Go on. More. Lift your head up, slowly. Nausea?"

"No. I'm fine."

She pushed away from him, rose to her feet. She was far from steady, but just steady enough to feel the prick of embarrassment. "I'm fine."

"You're injured."

"I –"

She looked down, saw the cut on her right shoulder, began to feel the delayed sting of it, and managed a vague, "oh". Already his fingers were running over the skin of her shoulder, gauging the extent of the injury.

"It's… I'm all right."

"No, you're not. These wounds require healing."

She ignored his words and pushed away from him, determined to prove him wrong. But to her dismay, her body disobeyed her orders and her knees simply buckled out of their own accord. There was nothing she could do when he caught her against him just before she fell. Without another word, he swept her off her feet into his arms and carried her back to the castle.

-

In the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom located on the first floor, Snape mixed a potion in a silver cup. However troubled he might be, he appeared completely unaffected as he stood at his desk, his hands quick and sure. For the first time, Jade saw the usually dark and empty fireplace alive with a steady fire on which something was boiling inside a cauldron. It was smoking like mad and was gradually beginning to cloak the dungeon room in a shadowy steam.

He added two drops from a red flask, stirred once.

"You'll need to drink all of this."

She shot it a dirty look.

"Why?" she asked with a wrinkled nose. "Is it going to kill me?"

Now that the shock of nearly drowning had ebbed, the embarrassment returned with a vengeance, and the best way to deal with that, she figured, was by ignoring it.

"Regardless of its appeal, if I wished you dead I can assure you wouldn't be here right now," he told her. "There are countless means much more efficient than poisoning, and I happen to have some expertise in that field."

She didn't doubt him.

"Drink it." He pushed the goblet in her hands. "Once you've taken the potion, I should be able to treat your wounds, and draw the poison out. Even with this you'll be tender for a few days."

"Poison?" Jade asked faintly, blinking at the cup.

With his back to her, Snape lifted the smoking cauldron off the fire and with the flick of his wand it floated over to land neatly on his desk.

"Unless you wish for the venom to spread, I suggest you drink it."

She glared at him, though with no real conviction, tossed back its contents. And grimaced.

"God, can you make this any more disgusting?"

"Sit down," he told her while he filled a bowl with the smoking potion. He picked up a cloth and sat down on the wingback chair opposite her. She eyed the piece of fabric in his hand with suspicion as he dipped it into the purple coloured potion.

"Is that going to draw out the poison?"

"No."

He dabbed the stinging mixture at the cut on Jade's arm.

"This is a cleaning potion. The wounds need treating before the poison can be drawn out."

"Oh," she said dimly, her focus intent on the long fingers working with apparent skill.

Though her mind was strangely jumbled with dulled pain, her hands shaky, and her system begging to shut down, it didn't once cross her mind to worry. And that shook her more than the poison did. This man, immersed in concentration as he worked steadily but quickly, this strange man who was about as far removed from her perfect-man-list, and couldn't be more different from the guys she'd dated in the past, or wanted to date, had somehow captured her heart. Oh, she recognised the signs all right. She'd loved a number of men and was familiar with the feelings to know that it would be futile to ignore them.

The fact that she was as impulsive as a person suffering from borderline personality disorder didn't change the fact that the moment she'd seen him, felt that prick for the first time, recognised it and had been able to confirm it when he'd held her in Dumbledore's office. Attraction was a fickle thing, but it usually didn't take Jade longer than a heartbeat to feel its impact. And she'd felt its impact all right. Except that at the time her reasoning might have been a little muddied by the fact that she'd fainted, thought she'd been kidnapped and then heard her mother had been murdered.

"Ouch!"

She jerked, hissing out a breath when he only applied more pressure on the tender spot.

"Why," said Snape, a moment later in a voice of deadly calm. The same voice he used whenever he was at his most dangerous, "did you disobey me when I told you to go?"

He was strange, sure enough. How long had it taken him to work up this temper? she wondered with a frown, and ignored his look of annoyance when she spun out of his hand's reach to face him.

"I wasn't thinking. I just acted," she replied, upon seeing his look. "But sod it, Severus, if I hadn't stayed put you might've been dead."

"On first name basis, are we?" he remarked coldly.

"Oh, don't get all snotty with me. It won't work, you know," she told him, now swept up in her temper. "Do you think that tone is going to scare me when I almost died a moment ago?"

There was fire in her eyes, the kind that spoke of passion, of empathy. But even as his tightening loins recognised it, there was fury scorching his insides at the very thought of what could have happened, would have happened, he corrected, if he had failed. He wanted to hurt her, cause her physical pain.

He had to work at being calm, to strap himself down so he didn't simply wring his hands around that pretty little neck and squeeze. That, he knew, was his father's way.

And it was damned effective.

Still, as much as he might admire the efficiency of his father's ways, he didn't want to _be_ his father.

All he really wanted at that moment was to assure himself that she was all right. Then to make sure she stayed that way, whether it involved forcing her to do as she was told or not. She was, after all, just an inexperienced, naive, young Muggle. And the only reason why he was treating her wounds instead of dumping her at Poppy's was because he'd had the decency to take into consideration that it was the middle of the night and she would be asleep.

"Don't presume to understand what you know nothing about, Devlin."

What was it with him and his ability to make her feel like a misbehaved child? Jade thought with resentment as he strode to the fire to retrieve a second cauldron that was simmering. He picked up a clean bowl and a sieve to strain the clear green draught. His motions were sharp, accurate and deliberate, his face drawn into a blank that she knew harboured far more than he was allowing himself to show.

"Oh, come off it, will you."

He was angry. Fuming. She could practically feel the fury rolling off him in waves even though he stood quite still at his desk. And she knew perfectly well that he had every reason to be angry with her. After all, she had endangered not only herself. And the guilt almost swallowed her whole.

"It's not like me to walk away when others are in danger." As she said the words, they sounded lame even to herself.

Oh, she was so innocent still, he thought, so untainted. How was it that she'd never got acquainted with the big bad world outside?

He set the sieve aside, picked up an empty vial.

"You ignored my order once," Severus said softly, not looking at her. "I will not be disobeyed twice. Do I make myself plain?"

"Don't take me for an innocent little girl," she bit out, the guilt and shame making place for her quick and feisty temper. "I'm not five years old and I haven't lived a sheltered life, whatever you might believe. If you think I'm sweet and accommodating and easy to manipulate you're mistaken. Now are you going to finish what you started, or should I just go to Poppy?"

He grabbed the vial he'd filled with the green liquid and without warning poured three drops into a cut so that she hissed.

"If you've formed the impression that I believe you to be sweet, accommodating and easy to manipulate you're the one who's mistaken. What you are is prickly, stubborn and reckless."

She shot up from her seat as if a hot poker had been shoved up her backside. "You would think that, wouldn't you, just because I don't like being told what to do, how to do it, when to do it." She jabbed a threatening finger at him. "And here's another newsflash for you. I'm not one of your students. You don't get to bully me. Go pick on someone else if you need to vent. I know I've made a mistake, but give me a bloody break. I thought a child was dying out there. I went with instinct, I didn't think; that's the whole point."

"Yes, that is exactly the point, Jade," said Snape quietly. "You didn't think. It's a fortune there was no one else present or someone might have died due to your misplaced sense of heroics."

He watched her glower, frustration colouring her movements as she took a few limping steps, hissing at the pain, and softened his voice. "Sit down."

Her emotions were rocking, making it difficult for her to hold on to any threads of composure. And here he was again, giving her orders as if she was a little puppy that needed to be housetrained. "I beg your pardon?"

"Sit down."

His hand pressed down on her shoulder and because her legs were still shaky, she did nothing when he practically sat her back down. What was it with this man and his ability to make her feel furious one moment and calm the next?

"I need to finish tending these wounds. They'll need rest to nurse them back to health."

She just stared at him, standing there in the dark humid dungeon room, holding a dropper and a flagon with a green solution. And looking, she thought, as if he'd just as soon dump the contents over her head as not.

She let the laugh bubble in her throat, then let it out as she leaned back in the chair. She heard the edge of hysteria in her laughter and pushed it down.

"Wow, I really get on your nerves."

"Don't flatter yourself."

"Yes," she mused, now grinning like a fool. "I can see it in your eyes. I get under your skin." Her smile grew even wider as she studied him. Not even the acid-like drops that felt as if they were burning their way through skin, muscle and bone could erase the grin on her face, and his dark scowl only added to it. "And you can't stand it."

Even though his regular black robes were torn and dirty from their little adventure, he exuded power and confidence as he towered above her with an almost arrogant pride. The kind, she supposed, that is either bred in the bone or that one is born with. She wondered which kind he had.

He wasn't a natural beauty, not a handsome man by common standards, but there was something about him that pulled at her. Something in his eyes that calculated, observed and took in everything around him in the tiniest detail and something that could, she thought as she watched him move, with the sharpness of a dagger pierce through your heart with less difficulty than it would be to light up in genuine warmth, as if any demonstration of emotion was indecent.

It took her a moment to notice that his body language was slightly off. That his stance was stiffer, his voice tighter and more clipped than usual, and that he wasn't standing as straight as she remembered him to. In fact, it almost looked as if he was hunching.

"What's wrong? What did you do?"

He worked up a leer. "We've just covered that. You got yourself in trouble. I saved your neck."

With a frown of concern that she felt right down to the tips of her toes, she solved the matter by reaching up and ripping his shirt open.

"What do you –?" He'd forgotten how fast she could move. A mistake.

The angry gashes across his middle were raw and angry.

"You're hurt."

Her eyes, large and round, flew up to his.

"Why didn't you say something?"

"Because it's not your concern." With sorely bruised dignity, Severus yanked what was left of his shirt back in place.

He glared at her for good measure, but she kept staring at him with those eyes that revealed far too many of her thoughts, and he found it was driving him to the brink of sanity. When she tried to take hold of his robes again, he caught her hand. His lips thinned and curled while he fought for the control within himself that he could feel was ebbing quite quickly.

And so he missed the second time her hand shot out. He was quite prepared to shove her away, with unnecessary force if need be, but couldn't entirely find it within himself to do so. She was already pushing at the fabric of his robes, frowning and cursing when it kept falling back where she tried to look. He could practically taste her annoyance and, had he not been so baffled by the look in her eyes, he would have the sense of mind to stop her when she moved to strip off his robes.

Concern.

He had read it accurately in her face; he had no doubt about it. He was skilled in reading the thoughts and feelings of others. But never before had it left him feeling so inadequate, and so perplexed that he just stood there and allowed her to do what she seemed to feel compelled to do.

Now that his chest was bare and he stood half-naked in front of her, the ugly gash on his right side openly glaring at her, Jade suddenly felt she couldn't move. The gash looked so angry, so grisly, and she felt so utterly and inexplicably incompetent. Her fingers itched to touch him, to reassure herself that his body was still warm and very much alive, but she feared the most gentle of touches would somehow cause him even more harm.

"Had your fill?"

The sound of his voice startled her back to reality. She forced herself to stop gawking at him; it really wasn't that bad. He wouldn't be standing there so calmly if it were. She hoped. And watched as he turned away from her to pour himself a glass of wine.

He obviously kept himself fit; his chest was a gathering of wiry muscles, his build was lean so that explained why she'd mistaken him for thin when dressed. There were scars on his chest, she saw now. Old and shiny and riding dangerously close to his heart. She wondered how he'd got them.

"You should get Poppy to take a look at it." The sight of those raw wounds knotted her stomach. She hated seeing anything, anyone, in pain. "It looks serious."

"Why?" his voice had a strange edge to it that she didn't understand.

"Because you're hurt and Poppy is –"

"No," Snape interrupted, showing a sign of impatience. "Why are you constantly –" he broke off then. As if, Jade thought, it wasn't quite what he wanted to say.

"Why do you keep nagging like this?"

And that, she decided, resigned, was as good as she could get right now.

"That's what people do, people who are interested in each other," she replied. "They watch out for one another."

"Jade –"

"Yeah, you don't want to be interested. But you are." She released his robes, traced her fingertips down his arm, slender and strong, and clasped his hand in hers. He stiffened at the touch, she could tell even though there was no outward sign, and elected not to move any further. "I can tell."

She gave his hand a soft squeeze then suddenly let go.

"What's going to happen to the body?" she asked in what she hoped was a casual voice.

"That matter is being dealt with as we speak."

"What does that mean?"

"I've already notified Dumbledore. He has the matter under control. He'll no doubt want to talk to you."

"Mmm." She gave a little nod, ran a hand through her wet hair then asked the question that had been bubbling inside her for the last half an hour. "What was it?"

Snape did not beat about the bush. "A dwarf."

"A dwarf," she repeated it, as if not quite sure she wanted to believe that her own eyes had seen one. Then realisation struck home like a lightning bolt. "They want to kill me."

The breath escaped her in a matter of seconds and she felt her knees turn to jelly as she realised it was true. But she didn't allow herself to give into the weakness even as a cold sliver of dread coursed through her veins, coiling in the pit of her stomach to settle there as a heavy stone.

"They used him as bait to get to me. He was struck by a lightning bold, of that I'm sure. I didn't imagine that, I'm sure I didn't. But he was already cold and stiff when I got there. It's not that cold outside. If he was alive when that lightning hit him, rigor mortis couldn't have set in yet. Not so soon. It'd be impossible. He was dead… he – he was bait."

She was white as a sheet, her eyes already going glassy with shock.

She doesn't deserve this, he thought. And had no doubt that if he had kept a closer eye on her, this wouldn't have happened.

"You need to sit down."

"What?"

"Sit." Brisk now, he took her by the arm and pulled her to a chair, dumped her in it. "You're safe here."

Her gaze, unblinking and glossy, settled on him. "If you hadn't… you saved my life. If – if it hadn't been for –" she broke off, pressed a trembling hand to her mouth.

"Jade."

"Just –" She held up her other hand, closed her eyes. "Just give me a moment."

Her insides were shaking, she was sure of it. They'd turned liquid and if she opened her eyes she'd fall apart and end up like a puddle of water on the floor. It was worse than fighting for her life down in that lake. It was worse to face the fact that you could have died moments ago.

When a warm hand settled on her shoulder, she launched herself at him and held onto him as if he were her lifeline.

Severus couldn't help stiffening at the contact, but as he felt the shakes rake through her body and into his, he didn't think twice about wrapping his arms around her. He was certain that if he didn't hold her close, secure, she would simply fall apart.

Though his judgement warned him against it, he rubbed her back in soothing strokes while she cried silent, hot tears, wept the shock and anger and sorrow from her heart. He felt his shirt, soaked through in patches, turn from hot to cold and could only hold her tighter against him, until the shakes and shudders lessened and the quakes stopped wracking her body, and she was curled on his lap, washed-out and still.

"I'm sorry. I'm such a girl," she said against his shirt, too embarrassed to meet his gaze.

"Don't be."

But she felt better. The heavy weight pressing down on her shoulders had lifted. "I just don't know why. Why would someone want me dead?" She wiped the tears from her face with her torn pyjama sleeve. Then, "What were you doing outside in the middle of the night?"

"I could ask you the same question."

She grimaced at the lack of answer. Could have expected it, she thought, he never told her anything. The injury was a classic example of the male pride and their stubborn habit to hide their injuries. They catch a cold and think they're dying, but when they suffer a lethal injury they insist on ignoring it. Jade would have laughed if she hadn't been trembling so much.

Maybe his wound wasn't lethal, but it sure as hell had given her the shakes.

"Will it scar?"

Surprised at this sudden turn in conversation and not expecting the question, he looked almost amused. "It will likely leave a trace," he said. "But it will heal."

She nodded, concluding with approval that he was not a vain man, and ran a gentle hand over the scarred skin of his chest. It quivered underneath her fingertips.

She hadn't expected to feel quite so – much. Uncovering that wound she had almost felt violated, as if his injury was her own. And that shook her to the core.

"Thank you," she told him softly as her earnest gaze sought out his, locked.

She wasn't just mad about him. Maybe she was just plain mad anyway. It wasn't as if he had given her any encouragement. He'd been cold and distant since the first time she'd met him. Except for the single time she'd managed to catch him off guard and annoy the shit out of him.

Nothing cold about that interlude, Jade remembered. Though she knew it was foolish to hope, even now, if she let herself, she could built a very entertaining fantasy about doing little more than pressing her lips to the base of that strong, pale neck.

And so she did. Angling her head only slightly, she skimmed her lips over his cheek, found his mouth and sank in, soft and slow.

The tenderness of it had his muscles clenching and his stomach doing one long, lazy roll. Even when she deepened the kiss it was all warmth, without any of those edgy flashes of heat he expected from her.

She brushed her lips against his, the touch so soft and featherlike she barely touched him. Her lips, teasing, worked to part his. Then the tip of her tongue slipped past to join with his in a delicate joining of mouths. She grazed her teeth playfully, sensuously, against his lips, and to her delight felt him comply, joining her stroke for stroke until the kiss that had begun so gentle spiralled into a feverish exchange of breaths.

Her hands traced down his shoulders to his arms, marvelling in the strength she felt in every ripple, every movement of muscle. She slid his shirt all the way down, began to trail a path of butterfly kisses from the base of his neck to the tiny, white scar along his collarbone.

He grabbed her, squeezing her hips as he pulled her even closer to him. His hands were warm, roaming over the bare flesh underneath the fabric of her pyjamas and caused goose bumps to appear, her nipples contracting into two perfect buds. He was bending his head to suck at one of them.

A shrill scream pierced the air.

They froze as if a bucket of cold water had been dumped over their heads. And then Severus had set her down and, throwing on his robes, was striding across the office towards the door.

"Stay here," he ordered and strode out down the hall.

"Yeah, right," Jade said, jumping to her feet. "Like that's ever worked."


End file.
